Mastering the Beast
by TayMor
Summary: Her beautiful eyes were what made Gaara's madness subside. Her beautiful features was what made Kimimaro's breath halt. Her beautiful inner-strength was what drew Itachi in. Oh the power beauty can have over a beast. And deep down, all of them were beasts. GaaSakuIta, AU. Romance/Humor/Drama/Horror. Hetero. Rated for themes and possible gore.


**So this is a converted story. I have the fiction version on my account on fictionpress, but I wanted to see the reception here, since you guys show me love! **

**Obviously, there are changes to the script, and the underlying story, but the concept is very similar. Please keep in mind that after the first chapter, this will almost completely deviate from it's namesake. I had full permission from myself to do this (^_^)!**

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_Prologue:_

_"How long before I see the sun again? How long before breezes caress my face? How long 'til I feel the rain on my skin and my nostrils are teased by pleasant fragrances? How long before I'm free of these fetters and chains binding me to these cold, dank walls? _

_How long 'til my parched lips drink cool water? How long before the darkness goes away? This cold. How long before I am warm? How long before I eat something other than scraps from the kitchen garbage? _

_I want to leave. I want to be warm. I want to feel warm sand replace the cold beneath my feet. I want to sleep without the nightmares. I want to eat until my stomach is full. I want to run in the rain. I want to live. I want... so much! I want... I want... I WANT! The darkness... it's closing in again! Help me escape! Please! Help me!"_

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**Chapter 1: In the Face of the Beast**

The rain fell in torrents, slapping the windows of Haruno Sakura's attic room with such force the twenty year-old thought the raindrops might break the glass. There would be no going out tonight, not that she would have been able to anyways. She was a domestic prisoner to this blasted inn, and it was all because of her stupid mission. As if it wasn't bad enough already to be stuck in the Souka Inn, she had to be placed on an ANBU team with one of the most patient and persistent leaders to ever exist.

Uchiha Itachi.

Which meant she would be stuck in Ame until the rumors that a beast was being hidden there were put to rest.

Sakura was _not _a patient woman.

The Konoha ANBU cell had split up in Ame, each team member going undercover in different parts of the Hidden Village as they tried to gather and compile information. Uchiha Buntaichou was slipping his way into the terrorist groups as a new nuke-nin criminal boss, Shisui was heading a casino, while Kakashi was posing as a member of the Amegakure Police.

And Sakura was pretending to be a barmaid, because Uchiha Itachi-san was either a sexist pig, or had a serious dislike of Sakura… or was annoyingly dead on when he suspected that Sakura's feminine wiles could pull many a tale out of many a man in the inn.

But it got old really fast, especially when the all the men told her were glorified tales of their supposed adventures and conquests. And especially when no one seemed to know anything about the beast that was allegedly kept somewhere in Ame… or about who was pulling the strings. Still, Itachi-san was positive that there was something there worth looking into, and he'd convinced Tsunade-sama of that… and so here they were. And they'd been here for almost half a year with nothing to show for it.

Well… yes, they had managed to round up quite a few nuke-nin on Konoha's Most Wanted list, and they'd collected the bounties too, but as it were, Sakura was the only one who couldn't touch her money. Since she was a barmaid/waitress at this slum of an inn.

And that wasn't the worst of it either.

Apparently, Souka Minari, the owner of the inn, thought she would make much more money for his establishment if she provided the gentleman travellers that often boarded at the inn with _favours_ as he called it, much like the other girls did. Apparently, she was in high demand, since pinkettes were rare. Out of self-respect, and no little amount of spite, Sakura was determined not to give in to Souka-san even though she was several episodes short of virgin… it didn't help his case at all that he was a mean spirited, slovenly bastard. It was no wonder he ran one of the vilest inns in Ame.

A particularly harsh clap of thunder had Sakura jumping in her seat in front of her mirror. The inn would be full tonight for sure. Travellers always seemed to get caught up in storms like this, and then it would be a night filled with slaps to her derrière, catcalls and leers while she immersed herself in the removal of mud from the inn floor. She hated this blasted place. And _Minari_ was getting more insistent too, since some of the younger girls decided they didn't mind trading in some of their nights for extra cash. That wasn't Sakura's style at all, and she hoped she would never ever have to put herself in the position to trade her nights for money, especially if she would have to give any up and take _commission_. As if any person had rights to whatever earnings she might get from the use of her own body. Sakura scowled as she had to squeeze her shoulders together so that the front of her blouse could be buttoned up.

It wasn't that her bust was inordinately large; it was her blouse that was too small. Her clothes were too small full stop, and Sakura hated the fact that she had to wear her bindings extra tight just to fit into her clothes. The round neck of her blouse which, while showing ample cleavage, covered her up well enough, was cause for … distraction… among the male patrons. And her skirts always rode up flashed glimpses of her upper thighs when she moved at any pace apart from slothful, because they were too short, and _Minari_ claimed it was an expense to him to have to pay for more clothes for her if she didn't do something more industrious with her time than mop floors and wait tables. He bought for the other bar girls, of course, but then, they 'earned their keep'.

Sakura scowled again, not caring that she might give herself frown lines, and moved to attend to her hair. Since her hair, long and the colour of pink cotton candy, was lengthy enough to provide some semblance of protection for her chest which was displayed by her too-tight blouse, Sakura generally left it down, even though it attracted the attention of the male visitors at the inn. Still, Sakura would _much_ rather they stare at her hair than her neck and chest. The lamplight cast a yellow glow over her hair, which shone healthily as she brushed it, the flame flickering slightly from the draft of air when the door to her room opened.

"They want you downstairs, Sakura," a slightly hoarse female voice intoned from the open doorway. Sakura turned to face one of the older women, Akiko by name, and gave a wan smile. Akiko had long since been a lady of the night, and day, if the rumours were true, and was an avid smoker to boot – hence the raspy voice. It was downright disgusting and unhealthy, but Sakura wasn't one to judge, after all, Akiko was a perfectly nice woman.

"Just putting my shoes on, Akiko. I'll be down in just a moment." Akiko smiled at Sakura's response, and closed the door on her way out.

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Torchlights flickered from their places in the docks on the walls of dank passageways of the old Ame prison. Despite the fiery light, the hallways still managed to be dank and damp, and very foul smelling. After all, the rarely cleaned cells of Amegakure's more dangerous criminals were housed here, and the scent of human refuse and rotted food and rats was thoroughly ingrained in the stone. Two sets of footsteps, both hurried, sounded down the passage as two men hastened to one of the cells at the very end of the passage. The man in front, with a smelly, unkempt blonde beard and dressed in the greyish-blue uniform of the prison staff led another slim bodied well-dressed man that was of undetermined age, though he looked no older than thirty years old.

The jailor, whose bloodshot eyes had a panicked, frantic gleam to them, moved with the harried deference that came with those unfamiliar with dealing with those of a higher class. It was particularly discomfiting for the jailor as he was putting the guest to the prison in danger. This section of the prison housed the most dangerous of Amegakure's criminals, convicted of high profile crimes and mass murders. The jailor was unsure as to why these prisoners had not already been killed; burned or otherwise, but apparently there was a reason, for the visitor wanted to see one of said criminals for some reason. The jailor's steps slowed as he approached a cell door, then he stopped and gave three hearty bangs on the door.

"Oi, Momochi! Are you awake? You have a visitor!" The jailor's call rang out and echoed in the hallway. The visitor anxiously twisted a ring on his finger as he waited for a reply from the cell. There was a rattle of chains from inside the cell, followed by a low snarl.

A pause.

Then, a coarse laugh.

"Hmm… Yakushi. That you?" The well-to-do visitor, Yakushi, visibly shook at the rasped question. His glasses gleamed in the low light.

"Yes. Yes, it's me, Yakushi," Yakushi responded, after clearing his throat nervously. There was another laugh.

"'Bout time, don't ya think, Yakushi? Been a long time since I seen ya. Thought you left me in 'ere to rot," Momochi rasped from inside his cell. He sounded incredibly annoyed.

"My apologies, Momochi. The Daimyo died and… and I had to pull some strings. It took longer than we planned for, but I'm here to get ye out now," Yakushi responded quickly, a hint of Konoha dialect tinting his otherwise Suna accent. There was a sigh from inside the cell.

"Fine. Why are you here anyway? I wanted Suigetsu to get me out," Momochi said after a pause. Yakushi shifted nervously and tugged at the hem of his elaborately crafted green shirt.

"Suigetsu's dead," he said, his voice almost at a whisper. Momochi's chains jangled from inside the cell.

"_What?_" Momochi spat incredulously, causing Yakushi to take three precautionary steps backwards, even though the door to Momochi's cell was still closed.

"S-Suigetsu's dead," Yakushi repeated, louder, his Konoha dialect more pronounced this time.

"Who done it?" Momochi demanded, spitting out a soft curse.

"Nanori… he went crazy… they couldn't control him. We had to put him down," Yakushi answered, his words tumbling haphazardly over each other. His Konoha accent got thicker the more nervous he got.

"That son of a bitch. I knew he'd do it if ya half-baked twats didn't let me control him!" Momochi barked, causing Yakushi to shudder. "Did you at least bring the package?"

"Y-Yes I remembered it," Yakushi stuttered in response to Momochi's question.

"Get me out _now_," Momochi demanded, leaving no room for argument.

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**0000**

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A short while passed before Momochi was free from his chains and walking out of his cell. The jailor walked a 'safe' ten paces behind the two men just to be sure. Momochi was a man that to this day knew no fear. He had gotten himself imprisoned for his own purposes and not for any other reason, and he had been in his cell for the past six months. He stank and moved like a cat, and his unkempt black beard partially hid an evil mouth and jagged teeth, but his overgrown hair failed to hide his beady, malicious eyes that darted around as if cataloguing everything in sight.

The jailor shuddered with fear when Momochi asked to be taken to the cells below. The floor beneath was the lowest floor of the prison and held the most dangerous criminals Amegakure had to offer, particularly those that were mentally unstable. The prisoners in those cells were at least ten times more dangerous than a man like Momochi Zabuza, and though most of the cells were empty, save three, they were all tightly shut just in case. There was only one way down to the floor beneath, and only one way up from it, and that was a cell that was lowered by a lever. One would not want to get left on such a floor.

The grilled cell clanked slightly as it hit the stone of the lowest floor of the prison. The jailor took one slow step forward and lit the torches extending from the walls, lighting up the passage as they went along. There were three men walking down the passage, but Momochi's steps were so quiet only those of the jailor and Yakushi could be heard. At the end of the hall there was one cell that actually receded into the walls as a form of extra protection for those on the outside, and had an extra set of bars. Momochi moved ahead of the jailor, who had suddenly stopped moving in utter fear, and banged loudly on the door. His assault on the door was met with silence.

The jailor, visibly afraid, stopped Momochi's hand from hitting the door a second time, and tried to warn him back.

"If he don't answer on the first knock, let him be," the jailor said in a low, cautionary tone. Momochi yanked his hand from the jailor's grasp and sent him a withering glare before banging on the door again. There was no answer. Momochi began to wonder if there was even an occupant to the cell. After all, the legendary Sabaku might be just that, a legend. However, when his higher-ups caught word that Sabaku might actually exist in this prison, they couldn't miss the chance of his being real. It appeared he might just be legend after all. He banged again.

There was the faint rattle of chains from inside the cell, slow and jangling, the sound of metal on stone breaking the stillness of the air. It was a pity it didn't break the utter putrescence emanating from the confines of the cell.

"What sort of a pitiful noise is that?" Momochi goaded after hearing a tired, weak moan from behind the heavy iron door of the supposed cell of the Sabaku. The chains sounded again, then fell silent.

"I think ya've woken 'im up," the jailor rasped, taking a few steps back. There was silence for a couple of seconds, then a feral roar sounded from behind the door, sending the jailor scuttling backwards with such speed he tripped, landing on his rear end. The jailor rolled onto all fours, scrambled to his feet and ran a couple more paces back for good measure. The sound chilled Momochi to the bone; it wasn't even human, and made Yakushi whimper like a woman, backpedalling until he clung to the wall on the opposing side of the corridor. The frenzied, inhuman cry from the unseen individual ended in a high-pitched giggle of insane amusement. A trail of chakra seeped through the prison walls.

Momochi knew terror at that moment, and said terror held him rooted to the spot in which he was, else he would have scrambled for safer ground as his companions had. These walls, these stones, were specifically crafted to nullify any and all chakra. The mere notion that some of the Sabaku's chakra was escaping the cell was testament to just how much he had! Yakushi's hands shook so vigorously the package in his grasp nearly fell to his feet. There was a much more pronounced jangle of chains from inside the cell, followed by an unnerving straining sort of creak as the links in the chains rubbed together while they struggled to hold the raving lunatic in place.

"Have you come to get me?" a voice asked from the depths of the cell, slightly husky in the after-effects of the roaring spell and echoing off the stone walls. It was a crazy voice; a lunatic voice. A voice that demanded an affirmative answer. Momochi took too long to respond. "Haven't you come to take me out?" The lunatic was enraged. Momochi remained mute. Surprisingly, it was Yakushi that responded to the deranged prisoner's question.

"No, it's dinner time. Brought ya some food from up top. Don't ya want to have a taste?" Yakushi answered, no pretence of an Suna accent evident in his now full Konoha dialect. His question was met with contemplative silence.

"Don't mind if I do, then," the voice responded, this time much calmer and softer, but still with the unsettling tone of the mad. The jailor hesitated to open the door, looking to Yakushi for confirmation. This was not safe. These men were surely insane.

They must have a death wish.

"Ya promise to stay put 'n' take it?" Yakushi asked, just to be on the safe side.

"Aa, I promise," the alleged jinchuuriki confirmed. As the jailor moved to open the door, a high-pitched peal of laughter rang out from behind the steel door. Mischievous. The jailor halted so abruptly his keys jangled noisily. "Like a lamb," the lunatic continued, subdued by his desire for food from 'up top'. It would be a rare treat.

The door creaked and groaned noisily as the jailor pulled it open, using both hands and his full weight to move the heavy iron. Yakushi froze at the sight of the prisoner. He was bare chested, his chest and back having unmarred, hairless skin and undoubtedly powerful muscles. Only a tattered cloth hid his manhood from the world, and his powerful legs had him standing a few inches under six feet tall… His long red hair fell to his mid back in tangled curls and his beard extended almost to his navel. Sharp greenish-blue eyes stared at the men from behind full, dark red lashes. Crazy eyes.

Almost as powerful as his gaze, was his stench, which was so putrid Yakushi took several steps backward, turning his head to the side in utter revulsion. The madman's eyes gleamed brightly in the torchlight and he grinned. His unkempt moustache and beard, however, hid his homicidal smile from the world.

The shackles binding the Sabaku's wrists and ankles were three inches thick and at least four inches wide. The ones on his wrists were attached to the stone high up on the wall, giving the Sabaku leave to lie down at the base of the wall, but not permitting him movement over ten feet away from the wall. Yakushi, not trusting the strength of the chains after hearing them strain to control the lunatic prisoner, tossed the package to the Sabaku from a safe distance away. The Sabaku had dropped to his haunches, and began staring intently at the package as soon as it left Yakushi's hands.

Yakushi backed away and watched, fascinated, as the Sabaku tentatively crawled forward, his fingers slipping under the brown paper covering the package. His nostrils twitched like that of an animal and, as his fingers disappeared into the opening in the package he leaned forward in anticipation. When the Sabaku's fingers brushed the slab of mutton that had been cooked to juicy perfection and was still warm and wet, his fingers closed tightly around it and he pulled it slowly from the package. He stared at it for a few seconds before bringing it to his lips for an experimental taste, his sharp eyes never leaving it. He licked the meat, teasing himself with a taste. After that, the lamb was reduced to bone in a matter of seconds. Sabaku bit and gnawed at the bone like a common dog, growling in frustration when he realized the meat was finished. He shifted the bone from his dominant right hand to his left, and reached into the package again.

His hand came back out with a small slice of sweet cake. He stuffed it into his mouth without pause, a delighted sound coming from his throat. The other contents of the pouch, a quarter of a pork sausage and a biscuit were soon finished and the Sabaku gave a cry of dismay when he found the package to be empty.

The brown paper of the package was covered in his greasy black fingerprints and Yakushi grimaced in distaste when the Sabaku held it out to him. Yakushi smiled nervously and took the brown paper from the lunatic's hand but was unable to withdraw before his hand was seized by the Sabaku's now empty dominant right hand. The Sabaku squeezed his hand tightly enough for Yakushi to worry.

"Thank you," Sabaku said quietly, his voice still unsteady and crazy, but sounding as if Sabaku was desperately attempting to hold on to the moment of coherence. His grip on Yakushi's hand tightened painfully and Yakushi realized Sabaku was awaiting a response.

"You're welcome," Yakushi replied, his thick Konoha dialect coming out fully. "We'll get ya some more soon." The grip on his hand threatened to cut of Yakushi's blood supply as the Sabaku grew excited.

"Do you jest?"

"I'm not 'jesting', man. We will bring more," Yakushi responded, smiling nervously through the pain. The grip on his hand loosened and he snatched his hand away from the Sabaku's immediate vicinity post-haste, backing away before the lunatic could advance again. The plan was in motion, and as the Momochi and Yakushi stepped out into the torrential rain, they both silently admitted that their interaction with Sabaku no Gaara had gone much smoother than they had thought possible. Their next step was finding someone or something that could control the beast so he would be functional enough to serve their purposes, and Yakushi knew just the thing, or rather, just the _person._

They just had to get the inn-keeper to agree to help them 'acquire'**_ her_**.

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**So, what you think? Want the rest? **

**If I get lovely reviews from this, I will post chapter 2! Also, feel free to check the story out on my fictionpress, under the same name and author as here. You may like! You will also notice the very prominent differences between the two stories.**

**Please leave me reviews!**


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